


if i'm being honest, i'm getting there

by lafgl



Series: fragile heart [12]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Female Percy Jackson, Fluff, Genderbending, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22274962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafgl/pseuds/lafgl
Summary: prompt: "61. hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp" with wlw percabeth
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: fragile heart [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 101





	if i'm being honest, i'm getting there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [displayheartcode](https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/gifts).



**i spent this year as a ghost  
and i'm not sure where home is anymore**

**came out swinging ..//.. the wonder years**

* * *

Annabeth has her pressed up against the wall in the halls of the Argo II and her brain is going haywire. It’s unlike her, but there’s little to dwell on (that her mind wants to visit). She’s rough, but slow, her hands tangled in Percy’s hair. Her lips move against Percy’s, forceful but full of calculated indolence, and it feels so foreign coming from the girl who feels like home. Of course she loves kissing Annabeth, but these aren’t the kisses she’s used to; Annabeth was lazy, and sweet, and definitely not the type to be carelessly grazing her teeth against Percy’s lower lip.

She’s been like this since they got back. And honestly, who would blame her? Percy couldn’t. She couldn’t even sleep without hearing Annabeth breathing next to her. It wasn’t good sleep, she’d probably gotten less than her recommended 8 hours in the past week combined, but it was better than waking up after 5 measly minutes in a cold sweat and crying out for her. This way, they were together, _just like they promised_.

Even though Percy knows it’s the unaddressed trauma and desperation talking, the idea of Annabeth pinning her to the wall and kissing her until she forgets her own name consumes her. So, she tries. Tries to forget the pain and focuses instead on the desire inherent in Annabeth’s eyes; remembering what it looks like when she cracks a devious smile and drags her off to a corner. They’ll have to face what happened eventually. _But not today._

Annabeth breaks their kiss, catching her ragged breath. Her hands glide down, rolling off Percy’s shoulders and skimming her waist. She steps in even closer, fitting so perfectly in their embrace, bodies pressed together with no space in between. Her wide grey eyes lock with Percy’s, “I’m never leaving you. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Percy doesn’t know how to respond, other than a probably ill-informed _I’ll follow you anywhere_ , so she just says, “I’m here.”

“I love you.” Annabeth buries her head in Percy’s shoulder. She can tell she’s holding back tears. It’s the third time she’s said it this week, but it’s less desperate than before; an affirmation, not a desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy. It gives her hope that things will keep getting better, and maybe Annabeth will be able to kiss her without it being a means to feel numb.

Percy threads her fingers into her tousled curls (she’s finally looking like herself again), holds her close, and whispers, “I love you, Annabeth Chase.” It’s a declaration, and a promise.

Annabeth lets out a light sigh, and captures her lips again, this time, with focus and devotion. It’s more tender, and Percy’s glad. They get a little bit better everyday. She kisses Percy like it’s the only thing she wants — no, knows — how to do. Creating space between them, her hands run across Percy’s stomach and sides over her t-shirt, the kind of needy touch she’s become accustomed to in the past few weeks. Fingers dance around the hem of the orange fabric, slipping just under it.

She wraps her hands around Percy, ghosting over the small of her back. It’s the most surface level contact, barely brushing over the skin. Even so, her touch lights the spot on fire; something Percy hasn’t felt since she first revealed it to her. Percy can’t hold back a sharp gasp, the heat washing over her body. Suddenly overwhelmed by her senses, she jolts upright, breaking the kiss and bracing herself with her hands on Annabeth’s shoulders. It feels like electricity coursing through her veins.

“What’s wrong?”

“You — it…” she struggles, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone explain.

“You forget to breathe, Seaweed Brain?” she chuckles, adjusting her grip and brushing over the spot again.

She’s going to melt. “No, I… your hands. That’s where my—”

“Oh my _gods_ ,” Annabeth actually _laughs_ at her. As embarrassed as Percy is about her reaction… it’s good to hear that sound again. It’s been a long time. “Does that _seriously_ turn you on?”

The blush rises so intensely she can feel the tips of her ears heat up. Although she hates to admit it to herself… _kind of_ , in a surreal sort of way. Her defensive answer comes a bit too late: “What? _No_!”

“Oh,” she sees right through it, “it does…”

It's the most normal conversation they've had in weeks. Annabeth’s making lazy circles around the small of her back, eyes locked on Percy's. She can feel her grip on the floor slip a little, struggling to keep her body from melting. It isn't like she's ever been normal, but evidently, she was cursed with a normal teenage brain; she desperately wants Annabeth to keep talking to her like this, to continue trailing her hands up her back just so she can hold her as close as humanly possible. Her rational side, the one that keeps her wits about her in battle, knows better. What she wouldn't give to have things go back to the way they were last summer, when they were seventeen, and figuring it out together. Now, every step she takes with Annabeth is its own battle. The second night back, all Annabeth wanted to do was kiss her for hours. _"Well, if we can't sleep…”_ Percy almost felt wrong, like she was taking advantage of her, even though she knew she was just as broken herself. She hates that even thinking about something more sends her mind into a downward spiral. There’s _too_ many things that are _too_ complicated for them to just be normal, stupid, teenagers. It’s not _fair_. They’re scarred, and although the physical marks have started to fade as the days turn into weeks, she knows there’s some trauma that’s never going to leave them. But, oh, does she want to fall into bed with her, if only for a moment, to make her forget. To be the ones in control of the bruises peppering their bodies for once.

Percy’s silence is telling. Softness creeps back into Annabeth’s voice. “Is this too much?”

 _Yes. No._ The truth? “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You saw what I can do!”

Annabeth doesn't flinch, doesn't take a step back, doesn't even blink. She simply brings her hands up to Percy's face and says, “You wouldn’t. I know you," like it's the only thing she's ever been sure of. _She believes it._ Percy doesn't.

“You know I love you.” She does. So much. “But you know as well as I do that we’re not okay right now.”

“I know,” she says, quiet and still. “I just need you to kiss me like we are.” _There it is._ In her own words, what Percy’s seen in her since they got back.

“We will be. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but…”

“We're going to have to talk about this, aren't we?” Annabeth asks. She shuffles, looking down; anything to avoid the truth.

Percy nods. “Eventually.”

 _Not today._ “For now, can you just kiss me again?”

Percy shakes her head softly and rolls her eyes, lifting her into her arms, causing a squeal from Annabeth. Their lips meet, and Annabeth relaxes, letting her arms drape over Percy's shoulders, and wrapping her legs around her. Struck by an idea, she digs her heel into the spot, practically giggling against Percy's lips as she tenses up.

 _She's cruel_. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Probably,” she shrugs, “But I’m going to enjoy it.”


End file.
